


Thinking About It

by chromatic_78



Category: Santa Clause (Movies)
Genre: ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER 18, F/M, Hair-pulling, Light Dom/sub, Rough Sex, Vaginal Fingering, porn with a tiny bit of plot if you squint, very light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:08:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27960518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chromatic_78/pseuds/chromatic_78
Summary: When your father is Santa Claus you end up spending most of the winter at the North Pole. As a kid it was like a dream—with an endless amount of toys at your disposal, a stable full of reindeer, and as much hot cocoa as you could possibly drink. Now that you’re getting older the workshop doesn’t have the same luster and your winters are bordering on mind-numbing, but this year you find something that makes it a little more bearable.
Relationships: Bernard the Arch Elf/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 46





	Thinking About It

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go to the North Pole this year, but the fact that all of your friends were off partying in a semi-tropical paradise definitely made you think twice. You didn’t voice your reservations because you already knew what your mom would say: “it’s tradition, y/n.”

Despite the images of poolside bars and tan lines running through your head, your arrival at the workshop managed to put a smile on your face. There were only two weeks until Christmas, so the factory was in overdrive with elves running around in every direction. As you stepped out of the sleigh you looked around for your parents and saw no sign of them, which didn’t come as a surprise, it was their busiest time of year after all. 

Left to your own devices you made your way inside the workshop where an elf reached out to take your jacket. The hustle and bustle of the huge factory never failed to fill you with childlike excitement, even now, the place was overflowing with joy and it was tangible. 

You felt a light tap on your arm and you glanced down to see Judy. “I must say, I wasn’t sure you’d come this year but I’m thrilled you did,” she said, her pleasantly high-pitched voice cutting through the noise around you.

“Well, I couldn’t disappoint dad,” you replied, “Speaking of, where can I find him?”

“I’m afraid Mr. and Mrs. Claus are out on a practice run, but they’ll be back this evening. Why don't you have a cup of hot chocolate while you wait.”

There wasn’t much else to do, so you shrugged and followed Judy to the kitchen where she handed you a mug with whipped cream piled high above the rim. Being one of the highest ranking elves, Judy was always busy and had to go, but you took a seat at the kitchen counter and enjoyed the cocoa for a while. From your seat you could look out at the toy-making section of the workshop, where row after row of elves was hammering and sawing away.

You placed the now empty mug on the counter and decided to do some exploring. Everything stayed mostly the same from year to year, but there were always a few subtle alterations. It was also a good way to kill some time. Humming along to the Christmas tune that was playing softly throughout the building you weaved expertly through crowds of elves and winding corridors. You reached an unfamiliar hallway, less crowded than the others, and tried to keep your footsteps quiet as you walked past a row of closed doors. There were elves’ names on the doors, so you assumed they were offices of some kind.

One name in particular caught your eye and you stopped in front of the icey blue door. You hadn’t seen him around much in the past few years, and were curious as to whether he would even remember you. You knocked lightly, three taps, and waited. 

“Come in,” a voice from the other side said.

You opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind you. He was seated behind a large desk, sorting through some kind of paperwork without so much as a pause to look up at you. “Miss me?” you asked, trying to get his attention.

When he finally glanced up his eyes widened, “Y/n? Wow, you’re—I mean, I wasn’t aware you’d arrived.”

You grinned, he was obviously flustered and you loved it. “You mean you barely recognized me,” you teased, walking over to one of the chairs in front of his desk and taking a seat.

He laughed, though he was still tense, “Truthfully, no I didn’t recognize you immediately. Do you need something?”

He was always a little brash, so you weren't surprised by the abrupt question. “Nothing specific, but you know I’m not a kid anymore, Bernard. I want to know what you do for fun around here.”

“For fun? This is December at the North Pole we don’t have time for fun.”

“Oh, come on, there’s no way you keep up that straight-laced act 24/7,” you paused and crossed your arms, “Or maybe you really are just a boring old man.”

He sighed, smirking slightly, “Fine, come back here tonight. If your father finds out about this he’ll kill me, so try to keep your mouth shut.”

Bernard was back to looking over the papers stacked on the desk before you stood up. Something about that final command made your thoughts race. You left his office quickly, without a word, and retreated to your bedroom to wait for your parents to arrive. 

Did his eyes linger on you a little too long? Did he blush a little when you walked in? Sure, when you were younger you had a bit of a crush on Bernard, but until now you thought you’d gotten over it. Okay, maybe ‘bit of a crush’ was an understatement. Laying in your four poster bed, staring up at the ceiling, you recalled all the times throughout your teenage years that you had thought about him in this room. You always knew he could never see you the same way, he was hundreds of years old and you were his boss’ daughter, not to mention he had never shown an inkling of interest in you until today. 

You tried to push those thoughts out of your head when Judy came in to let you know that your parents' had just gotten in and dinner was waiting. The meal was uneventful—you answered your mom’s questions about school, your dad rambled on about how many toys they needed to manufacture before Christmas, and you tried to seem as normal as possible. It was hard to act like your usual self when you couldn’t stop thinking about what might happen later tonight. What kind of fun did Bernard have in mind?

By the time dinner was over it was already late, so you faked a yawn, mumbled something about the trip wearing you out, and went back to your room. Luckily, your mom would be asleep soon and your dad would probably be up late working halfway across the workshop. Bernard hadn’t specified a time, but you figured it was late enough. Before you left you glanced in the mirror, you hadn’t changed out of the short plaid skirt and long sleeve you’d been wearing all day. It hugged your chest and hips nicely, so you decided to leave it on.

The way to Bernard’s office was relatively deserted, and when you reached his door you knocked even more lightly than before. At his, “Come in,” you opened it and slipped inside. Now that it was dark the fireplace to the right provided most of the light, save for a lamp on his desk, and the warm glow made the space feel impossibly small. He was still on the far side of the desk, so you took a seat across from him just as you did earlier.

He got up, looked at you briefly, and went to a table at the other side of the room where he pulled out a bottle and two glasses. He poured both glasses with ease and walked over to hand you one, it was clear but didn’t really smell like anything. “Be careful, you might not want to drink all of that at once,” he said, sitting in the chair next to you instead of returning to the other side of the desk.

You laughed, “I’ve had vodka before, I think I’ll be fine.”

He took a sip, “This isn’t like anything you’ve ever had, and it’s not vodka.”

Rolling your eyes you downed the glass and warmth instantly spread over you. It was sweeter than anything you’d ever tasted—he was right, it was nothing like any human liquor. You looked at him and he smiled, “You said you wanted to have fun. There’s no hangover, you’ll be back to normal in the morning.”

You put the empty glass down on the desk and kept your eyes on Bernard. “It feels, uh, really nice. Like being drunk, but without the bad parts.” It was true, you felt giddy and light without any of the confusion or lack of control that usually came from drinking. “How does it work?”

“Just like everything else here, magic.” he paused and finished his glass.

“Why are you doing this? You could’ve just told me to leave you alone earlier,” you said, letting yourself stare at him a little longer than usual.

He looked down, “I don’t get to relax very often, and you’re much more interesting than a bunch of elves I’ve known for centuries.”

You laughed, “You ignored me for years and now you think I’m interesting?”

“I didn’t want to ignore you,” he paused, staring into space, “But it was difficult to be around you without—nevermind.”

You leaned forward in your seat, closer to him, “You can’t just ‘nevermind’ me, what were you going to say?”

He stood up abruptly and walked over to the fireplace, gazing at it to avoid looking at you, “Forget it, it’s nothing and you should probably get back to your room.”

You got up and stood beside him, leaning against the wall, “No. Bernard, I’m not leaving until you tell me what you were going to say.”

When he turns around to face you directly the room seems to shrink and you’re suddenly very aware of how close he is. “It’s hard to be around you without thinking about you, and reading into everything you say, and wanting to do things that I shouldn’t want to do. Understand?”

You feel your face heat up at his words. The image of Bernard thinking about you, wanting you the way you wanted him was almost too much to process. “I understand because I’ve felt the same way for years,” you pause, your confidence growing when his eyes widen in disbelief, “You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined this.”

Without a word he leans forward to kiss you, pushing you back against the wall and letting his hands fall to your waist. The kiss isn’t entirely innocent, there’s some desperation in it and you want so much more. When he pulls away you’re breathless, unsure whether it’s the strange alcohol or just him.

“Tell me what else you’ve imagined,” he’s still close, still holding you.

Your heart skips a beat; you’re not sure how far to take this and you don’t want to scare him away. “I thought about you pulling me aside during a busy day into an empty closet, and I thought about you coming to see me one night, and—”

He cut you off, “No, tell me exactly what you imagined.”

“Um, well earlier today when I was sitting in here I thought about you bending me over that desk,” you breath hitched as his lips met your neck, “and pushing my skirt up,” his hand reached under your skirt and squeezed your thigh, “telling me to be quiet before you—”

He interrupted you again, with a kiss this time, and you ran your hands through his dark hair. When you pulled on it lightly he moaned a little, which sent a shiver of satisfaction through you. He guided you over to the desk which you hopped up on, pulling him forward to stand between your legs. His eyes seemed to darken and his hands settled on your thighs, “You’re sure?”

The flicker of uncertainty that crossed his face was cute in an odd way and you smiled before undoing his belt and unzipping his trousers. “I want to wait another second,” you whispered, reaching down to pull out his half-hard cock. You started with slow strokes and within a minute he was fully hard and twitching in your hand. Clearly impatient, he slid his hands up your legs and pulled your underwear down your legs, tossing them on the floor. 

He trailed his fingers over you lightly and you were a little embarrassed by how wet you were. You instinctively turned your head, but he froze. “Look at me,” he ordered, and when you did he slid one finger into you. You moaned quietly and he pushed another one in, hitting the right spot over and over again until you were squirming and panting in front of him. 

“I’m close, please,” you whined, unintentionally bucking your hips.

He smirked, “Not yet,” he pulled both fingers out of you without warning and you groaned, “Turn around and bend over.”

You did as he said and leaned down so your forearms were on the desk. The inside of your thighs felt sticky and you were grateful he couldn’t see your face because you were sure it was bright red. He ran his hands over your ass, rucking your skirt up around your waist. “Such a good girl,” he muttered, and you felt his cock brush against you. He pushed into you quickly and paused for a second before starting to thrust slowly.

Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t hold back the noises—the moaning and half-finished pleas—that he was dragging out of you. “Harder, I need it harder,” you panted.

His grip on your hips tightened, holding you firmly in place as he rammed into you again and again. You could’ve cried out he was so big, it felt like he might split you in half any minute now. Each thrust came with a twinge of pain that somehow made you want even more. Without warning he reached his hand down between your legs and rubbed slow circles around your clit. You felt yourself tense up, you knew the small amount of stimulation was enough to push you over the edge if he kept going. “Please, Bernard,” you whimpered.

“Please, what?” he asked with a hint of mocking in his voice.

“Please let me cum, I need to” you moaned, and instead of responding he continued to play with your clit as his thrusts slowed down. 

“Then do it,” he whispered, and with that you felt yourself tighten around his cock and your whole body shook under him. As soon as you came down from your peak he pulled out and flipped you over so you were sitting on the desk facing him.

This time he slid into you slowly, tangling one hand in your hair while the other stayed on your hip to keep you still. It was more intense like this, chest to chest with his face right in front of yours. You wrapped your legs around him and he moaned quietly. 

You could tell he was trying to control his expression, but there was no denying that he was close. “Where do you—” he panted.

“In me,” you replied without waiting for him to finish the question, “I want you to cum inside me, Bernard.”

He pulled your hair, somewhat involuntarily, as he thrust into you one last time. You felt him twitch inside of you, followed by warmth that would surely drip down your thighs when you eventually stood up. He stayed like that for a moment, just looking at you as you both breathed quietly.

When he pulled out and began fixing his clothes you stood up and smoothed out your skirt. He cleared his throat and looked at you hesitantly, “Are you okay?”

You grinned, “I am, but I won’t be if we never do that again.”

“Well you did mention an empty closet,” he trailed off with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if this ruined your childhood! I don't really know if there's an audience for this, but I could potentially write another chapter if people are interested. I'd love to hear what you think!


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